Bad
by Fangirl. With Dimples
Summary: This will be thirteen chapters long. Regina's life is actually going quite well. She's redeeming herself and repairing her relationship with Henry. It's Emma who's got the magical stalker. Drama and intrigue, and almost everyone crops up somewhere. Will be Swan Queen by the end, but they're not there yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hai. (Smiles shyly, with a wave) I'm 'Fangirl. With Dimples' on here, only-a-grrrl-gang on Tumblr. Long time lurker, turned poster. I hope you like my first offering.**

**This is AU in that it's set in a world where Regina's redemption kind of moved slowly along on it's cheery little path, uninterrupted. No Cora or anything like that. Neal is in this world though. He'll be touched on more in later chapters.**

**This is probably the shortest chapter that I will write, just to kick things off.**

**This will be 13 chapters long in total. No warnings that I can think of, but there will probably be the odd little swear word here and there. Nothing major. Expect an update about twice a week.**

**Oh, and SWAN QUEEEEEEEEEEEEN.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of this. No profit, just playing.**

Chapter One

"_Smoke Demon," the Blue Fairy had explained. "Created when a magical fire isn't extinguished properly."_

_A heated glare thrown in Nova's direction, driving the young nun even further into the corner that she had been attempting to shrink into, unseen._

"_No time for blame," Emma had stated breathlessly. "What will it do?"_

"_Create as much havoc as it can," had come the despondent reply. "It has no more complicated urges than that."_

_..._

"_Get Regina."_

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It hadn't been hard to follow the trail of destruction to Gold's shop. Fire, overturned cars, and acrid smoke, like a line of dominoes in the warm nighttime, stretching out before her. As she'd run, she'd alternated between coughing and hacking and yelling out exhausted threats to a woman who couldn't hear them.

"_I swear, Regina...if you don't answer your goddamn phone!"_

Her father's sword had slapped a steady heartbeat against her thigh.

Until, finally, she stood at the door of the pawnbroker's shop. It was so late that the proprietor himself was long since gone, headed for a warm home and a gradually re-blossoming relationship with a little boy now a man, and a young woman with a beautiful heart.

No one here but Emma and a monster.

She trailed her fingertips almost dreamily through the thick trail of smoke that was snaking through the building. Panic had taken her beyond thinking now, but even if she'd stopped and considered, she wouldn't have been able to tell you what she was stalling for; the arrival of her son's other mother, or an inevitable, unpreventable death. Her knees shook.

It was a thundering crash from somewhere in the back of the shop that brought Emma back to her senses. She was stood in a building with a creature of pure malevolence, and some of the most powerful magical artifacts that had ever existed. She flexed her fingers around her sword, and let her feet carry her to the source of the noise.

To her surprise, the demon was nowhere to be found in the decimated back room. She spun wildly on her heel for a moment, eyes raking desperately over the debris, before she realised that there was a door hanging open in the wall, a door that she had never seen before. A door that had been so painstakingly wallpapered as to appear near invisible to the naked eye, she reflected grimly. Through it, she could just about glimpse a darkened staircase that disappeared into the earth.

Fantastic. A secret room in Rumplestiltskin's shop. She just _knew _that it would be where he kept the seriously dark shit, and now there was a magical smoke monster in there. She looked to the heavens, sending up one more silent plea to Regina to please, _please_, come soon, before following the bellows of the demon.

The staircase led to a cold, stark, whitewashed basement, lit by a single hanging bulb and filled to near bursting with various odds and ends. Lone items jumped out to Emma's panicked eye, for absolutely no reason other than to delay, for just a second more, glancing directly at the monstrous black bulk of thick smoke and glowing red eyes, howling and roaring in the corner of the room.

_An hourglass, a headless statue, a mirror._

Her hair rippled in the dirty wind that came from the demon's latest cry.

_A goblet, a wedding dress, was that a doll?_

The lightbulb swayed drunkenly, making her feel even sicker.

She had to look.

The Smoke Demon appeared to have tripled in size if the Mother Superior's description was anything to go by; a shimmering, inky black mass of smoke that had already tainted the sweat that coated Emma's skin with grimy soot. It was curled into the top left corner of the room, seemingly fixated on a gothic candelabra that it seemed to be...sucking something from...?

"Oh, no way!" Emma yelled in bravado, lately well aware that nothing good ever came from the inhalation of mysterious magical threads of light. Ever.

She heaved her sword above her head, pulling it back, before hefting it towards the demon with every ounce of her not insignificant upper body strength. The weapon flew heavily through the air, straight into the centre of the demon's mass.

Upon reflection, Emma wasn't quite sure what she'd expected to achieve by throwing a big pointy stick at a smoke cloud. At least it was looking at her now.

"Right," she muttered to herself, watching the creature's red eyes narrow as it drew itself into an even denser black cloud. "Right."

Clearly, this wasn't a fight that was going to be won with brawn. Taking a nervous step backwards, she desperately worked to remember what Regina had told her about her newly burgeoning magic.

_Instinct. Emotion._

"I really need this thing to not hurt everyone I love," she breathed.

A ball of white light spluttered into life in her palm, seeming almost surprised at its own existence. She hurled it at the demon.

An agonising screech emanated from the creature, as smoke leaked from the impact point, swirling like ink in the ocean. Apparently, she had succeeded in wounding it.

And now, it was _pissed_.

Shit.

Her back was to the creature by the time it struck back; a wall of black light flying furiously, unstoppably towards her, pulling her off her feet and flinging her into the wall with a sickly _crack_.

At least one of her wrists broke on impact, of that, she was certain. And the other didn't feel to have escaped too lightly either. The air was knocked out of her lungs, bringing a hollow ache to her chest, and sharp, stinging tears to her eyes. When she fell back to the ground, she felt her tailbone tremble like a tuning fork, in a way that, confusingly, made her teeth hurt in an odd sort of sympathy.

Like the walking dead, she numbly forced herself to stand up again.

This time, she didn't even have time to summon up any magic before the demon flung her again, this time dragging her through the air, across the room.

She landed in a stack of wooden furniture, which crumpled like a tower of matchsticks under the force of her body. She tumbled messily through the debris, feeling thick nails and splintered shards ripping at her like so many branches until her back collided with a tabletop. She couldn't stop the wild sobs now as once again, her stubborn body pulled itself up, wrestling with pain and unconsciousness with every breath.

Blood trickled, like vinegar into her eyes.

"FUCK YOU, REGINA!" she roared nonsensically as she once more focussed on the elusive magic within her.

Her fingertips were sparking when it tossed her for the final time. She felt the vomit choking its way up her throat as the huge, arched mirror at the edge of the room flew up to meet her.

It shattered immediately and she knew she was done for.

"No!"

She sobbed. All she could taste, all she could smell, was smoke and her own blood.

She thought about Henry, and her parents, and even Regina.

Poor, poor Regina. Trying so hard, fighting so hard for love and forgiveness. Who would help her now?

"NO. No, no, no!"

The magic was using her now; not the other way around. She felt it shudder through her veins, burning in her palms.

There was a light - a desperate, blinding white that consumed everything.

Something howled. Someone laughed.

The last thing she saw before the darkness was her own shattered reflection.

Then nothing.

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Regina was in her garden, looking at the stars. She couldn't help but smile a little to herself as she reveled in the gorgeous summer night, stretching languidly on her picnic blanket as she ran her palms over grass that was still a little warm and dry against her skin. The air was so still that not a branch, not a leaf, shuddered about her. It was a sort of stillness that she could get used to. No blood, no death.

No little boy either, but the promise of breakfast in the morning, and a day spent working on his Solar System project. Poster paints, paper and PVA all waiting patiently on her kitchen table, ready to begin patching up the relationship between a mother and son as soon as daylight returned.

But for now, silence.

This was a _life_ she might just be able to get used to.

When the obtrusive trill of her home phone finally, weakly, broke through her little bubble of peace, she took the journey back into the house at a gentle jog. Redemption or no, people did not call an Evil Queen at midnight just to exchange gossip.

"Regina Mills...?" There was no harm in playing it safe. Perhaps someone with friends and loved ones and a sickeningly clean conscience had simply gotten the wrong number.

"_Regina? Please! Emma...Gold's shop! Please!"_

She hung up on Snow immediately, stillness gone, purple smoke curling over her form before she'd even finished placing the phone back in its cradle. She was not there to see it fall toward the carpet, hanging on its cord like a condemned man at the gallows.

She pulled her cardigan about herself as she sprinted the last few steps towards the shop, noting the way that the building's walls shimmered with pearly white magic, like the surface of a soap bubble. A colossal black wolf was pacing furiously before the translucent barrier, snarling, baring its teeth, as though it could scare the obstruction away.

With a flick of her wrist, Regina returned the young waitress to her human form.

"Emma's inside!" Red choked out immediately, still shaking away the last vestiges of magical mist. "She made her parents stay with Henry and she chased a Smoke Demon all the way here by herself and now I _can't get in_!"

"Emma's magic," Regina explained. "She must have done it without realising. She wants to protect everyone else from what's inside."

She drew her arm back, taking a deep, strengthening breath.

"How long has she been in there, Ruby?"

"Close to half an hour," the younger woman admitted, her bloodless cheeks glowing in the reach of the streetlights. "It went quiet about fifteen minutes ago."

Regina swallowed another breath before she incinerated Emma's protection spell.

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Neither of them chose to mention the smell of char that clung to the inside of the shop, instead choosing to wordlessly follow their noses to the basement.

"The smoke's not as thick as it could be," Regina noted blandly as they descended the stairs. She was pleased that she managed to keep her voice from shaking.

It was the witch who reached the secret room first, and not with a hundred years of practice could she have prevented the way that her knees gave way ever so slightly, so that she had to reach for the edge of the doorway to stop herself from falling. She heard Ruby's gasp from behind her - sharp and nauseated. It was a sentiment that swirled queasily in her own stomach.

There was no Smoke Demon.

Every single item in the room seemed to have been reduced to so much splintered wood and glittering broken glass, but she was barely aware of the fact. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Emma Swan, sheriff and Mother; beaten, bloodied, bruised, and tied to the room's lone radiator by rapidly purpling wrists; her clothes torn, her hair matted, and streaked with pink.

"Regina..." Red's voice was wavering wildly, and it was obvious that she was fighting to contain her sobs. "Regina, what did this?"

She was pointing above Emma's lolling head, above the radiator, and up at the words that streaked across the wall; smudged, smeared, and ominously red.

_THIS WOMAN IS NOBODY'S SAVIOR._

"I don't know, Ruby. I...I don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Longer chapter this time. Most following chapters will be of a similar length to this one.**

**Thank you for everyone who took the time to drop in with a comment for the last chapter, BTW. Much LOVE for y'all.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter Two

It was a little after one a.m. by the time Snow and Charming arrived at the hospital, Henry trailing behind them looking lost and little and heartbreakingly distraught.

Reluctantly, Regina opened her eyes. She had only been sitting for one, maybe two minutes, on the hardback chair outside Emma's room. It was getting late, and the extensive healing required by the other woman had left Regina feeling like she'd gone ten rounds with an angry troll.

But she jerked herself back to full consciousness anyway, shaking her head and climbing unsteadily to her feet.

She met Snow's eye first.

"Regina, is she...? How...?"

The woman couldn't seem to form a sentence between shuddering, terrified breaths, and Regina felt herself a little overcome by one of those strange pangs of sympathy that she'd been experiencing lately. She surveyed the three frantic, tear-stained faces before her and did the only thing that she could think to do. She spread her arms, and let her little boy run into them, burying his head in her shirt as she held her former stepdaughter's gaze with as little venom as she could manage.

"It was all quite superficial, Snow," she replied, surprising even herself by the gentleness of her tone. "I've managed to heal almost everything. She'll just be a bit stiff for the next few days. It's mainly the Magic Fever that's an issue right now."

"Magic Fever?"

It was David who managed to articulate the question. His voice was hollow.

"She's very new to magic, and she just used _a lot _of it," Regina explained patiently. "She's exhausted, achy, feverish. New witches literally call it 'Magic Fever'."

She felt Henry stir in her hold, using his cuff to clear up his face. She didn't reproach him for it.

"Is she awake, Mom?" he asked, in a quiet little voice.

"Not right at the moment, baby," she replied. With a significant look straight at David, she squeezed her son's shoulder. "Why don't you go and keep her company while she sleeps? We'll be right in."

It was quite possible that Henry Mills - always so much more aware, so much more observant, than the adults in his life seemed willing to give him credit for - knew exactly what she was doing. It was quite possible that he _knew_ he was being fobbed off so that they could keep yet more secrets from him. Nevertheless, it was clear that his fears for his biological mother were just too prevalent to allow for any arguments. He detangled himself from Regina's hold and barreled into Emma's room with barely a backward glance.

As the door swung on its hinges, Snow couldn't help but snap her head around, a fleeting look of relief crossing her features as she caught a single small glance of her little girl, sleeping peacefully. Regina saw as the woman visibly relaxed ever so slightly, losing the rigid, unforgiving tension in her shoulders and jaw. She herself had felt the exact same lightness as she'd watched the savior's wounds recede beneath her glowing fingertips.

She cleared her throat delicately, waiting until they were both looking at her.

"How much did Red explain?" she asked.

"She told us about the message," David confirmed, dark and furious. "That couldn't have been the Smoke Demon, could it?"

Regina shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear she she looked thoughtfully to the door that her son and his mother were currently waiting behind. Since healing Emma, she'd been running over and over the events of the night in her mind, trying to make sense of the chaos, and truth be told, it was making her head hurt.

"The Smoke Demon was an honest accident," she stated, almost more to herself than to the other two, who watched her with baited breath. "Red visited the convent to confirm it. Nova was casting, and she didn't take care of her fire properly. They called Emma, who was on patrol, and she followed it to Gold's shop. It must have been drawn by all the magic there."

She took a long breath as she considered the next turn of events, her gaze now dropping to the floor.

"Emma fought the demon. It must have been...quite a battle. She was severely injured, but as far as we can tell, she used her magic to destroy it."

"It's definitely gone?" Snow demanded sharply.

Regina bristled automatically at the tone, before remembering what she'd been talking about with Archie. She clenched jaw once, before taking a breath. Snow was not being rude _to her_. Snow was not being disrespectful _to her_. Snow was not _demanding_ anything of her. This was all about Emma, and the fierce protectiveness that comes with motherhood. She could understand that perfectly.

She was impressed by the soft evenness of her own reply.

"Yes. I knew the second we entered the basement. I could feel its remains in the air around us. The Smoke Demon was long since taken care of by the time Miss Lucas and myself arrived on the scene. It's what happened next that is subject to debate."

"Someone tied Emma up," David provided, his fist clenching like iron around the fabric of Mary Margaret's cardigan. Regina found that she liked both of them better like this. Stripped of the niceties and tweeness - just fierce and protective and angry. They were raw, and she knew how to deal with that.

She just wished that people didn't have to come so close to death for this sort of candidness between herself and her nemeses.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Whether or not Emma was conscious at that point isn't clear. For what it's worth, I would bet a lot on her having passed out as soon as she destroyed the demon. That level of magical expenditure from a body that beaten? I don't think she could possibly have stayed standing. But we won't know that for sure until she wakes up. All we can be sure of is that there was a third party who managed to tie Emma up and use her blood to write the message on the wall."

Snow turned her head into Charming's shoulder for one full second, before turning back to look at the door, taking a determined breath and wiping the tears from under her eyes.

"Red was outside the entire time."

It wasn't a question.

"She is sure that she arrived within minutes of Emma, and she didn't see a soul leave or enter the shop," Regina replied, with a short, sharp nod, despite the fact that the other woman couldn't see it.

"Has anybody called Gold?" Charming asked.

"It was my first port of call once Emma was healed," Regina answered. "Both Neal and Belle assured me that he had been there all evening."

"They could be lying?"

"Indeed they could, but it is unlikely. Neither has any love for magic or Gold's dark side. I don't think they would cover for him if they doubted his innocence for a moment."

Snow was still staring unwaveringly at the door to her daughter's room, and now, she suddenly let out a little exhale of desperation.

"I know we have talk about this," she murmured, "But it can wait. Right now, can I please just see my baby?"

David and Regina exchanged a final, firm glance, seemingly on the same page for once. They would return to this conversation, and soon, but first, they would let mother and daughter have their reunion.

"Of course," Regina replied, even managing the ghost of a smile. "Can you please tell Henry that I love him, and that I will be more than happy to help him with his project tomorrow, whenever and wherever is most convenient."

David took upon himself to nod for the both of them, the corner of his own mouth quirking up ever so slightly in gratitude for the consideration the Evil Queen had showed his family that evening.

He moved to take Snow's hand into his own, Regina already letting herself mentally deflate in anticipation of a late night glass of wine, and the warm, soft bed waiting for her back at the mansion. But the younger woman surprised both husband and enemy by shaking her head mutely. A moment of understanding between Snow White and her Prince Charming, firmly telling him to go on without her. That she would catch up to him.

David looked concerned for a moment, before shrugging. Obviously, he was more than used to his wife doing exactly as she pleased. He spared them one last glance before leaving the hallway, ready to stand by his fallen daughter's side.

Exhausted, and now more than a little impatient, Regina turned to look at Snow, a single eyebrow creeping towards her hairline as she waited to hear what it could be that was coming.

"Thank you," the younger woman finally breathed, honest in their moment of privacy. "Regina, thank you for helping her."

Well, that was unexpected.

"It wasn't for _you_," came Regina's immediate retort, quick and adamant and accompanied by a series of dazed blinks. She simply couldn't allow the other woman to believe _that_. "It was for Henry and for Emma."

But then, after a moment, she thought about Archie again. And just how damned well she'd been doing lately. And how Henry had felt in her arms just moments ago, and how achingly lovely it had been to watch Emma's body heal beneath her hands, and how the stars had looked from her picnic blanket in the backyard. And she took a breath.

"But I did it gladly," she offered, after a long moment of hesitation.

It was not a 'you're welcome', not even close. But it was something.

Snow's small, watery smile was the last thing she saw as she finally vanished into the embrace of a welcoming cloud of purple smoke.

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It was the sunlight that woke Regina the next morning. She had been so exhausted when she'd arrived home the night before - the extensive magic required to heal Emma, and the effort of being civil to Snow, having left her feeling like she'd run several marathons in a row - that she had neglected to draw the drapes, instead choosing to let herself fall into bed fully clothed. She'd been asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"Eugh."

Now, she wrinkled her nose at the brightness of the summer morning as it danced over her eyelids. She hadn't brushed her teeth the night before, and now that her exhaustion had receded, she could smell the stale smoke and body odor that clung to every inch of her. Really, it had been incredibly polite of the hospital staff not to retch every time she'd walked by.

"It's so hard to regret a curse that gave us all hot running water," she groaned theatrically to the empty room.

She began to peel her rank, stifling clothes off as soon as she was out of bed, eventually adding her underwear to the rather disgusting trail as she drew up to the shower. She sidled through the door; stretched - straining until she felt everything _click _satisfyingly back into place - before letting out a contented sigh and switching on the water.

Immediately, everything that had been hurting began to relax as the events of the previous night were carried down the drain and far away.

She extended an arm, reaching for a bottle of honey-scented shower creme and a soft puff.

"I really deserve this," she sighed.

That smug 'one of good guys' feeling was actually quite delicious.

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She decided to let her hair dry naturally, enjoying the cool freshness of it about her face and neck.

The satisfying sounds of the coffee machine firing up into life had just broken the silence of the kitchen when she looked up at the clock. It was ten o'clock - more than late enough to call the Charmings and check in on Emma (and, by extension, Henry). No point putting it off any longer, she supposed.

She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and drew out her cellphone, selecting a speed-dial that she had begrudgingly created when Snow and Emma had returned from their old land, and it had become clear that Henry was going to be staying put for the time being.

Only two rings before Charming picked up, sounding a little breathless.

"_David Nolan."_

"David, it's Regina. I was just wondering..."

He cut her off, leaving her to gape a little at her phone. People did not just _interrupt_ Regina Mills.

Or apparently, they did now.

"_Regina? Er...perfect, actually. Look, Emma insisted on coming home with us once she woke up last night. Something about hospital bedsheets making her itch? I don't know. Anyway, now she and Henry are still sleeping, and someone's called from the mayor's office saying the courthouse was trashed last night. Snow and I are going to go take a look. Can you come over and watch the two of them please?"_

Evidently, the phrase 'no rest for the wicked' was disgustingly biased.

"Of course," she sighed. "I was supposed to have Henry today anyway. Incidentally, did Emma have any answers for you about who it was that tied her up?"

"_No. You were right. The last thing she remembers is passing out."_

It was unsurprising, but still a blow to any investigation that they might hope to open.

"Right," she suddenly announced firmly, deciding that wallowing would get none of them anywhere. "I'll be there within half an hour."

The reply was one of genuine relief and gratitude.

"_Thanks, Regina."_

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Emma wasn't sure if it was the smell of pancakes that woke her, or the cannonball of Henry. Or perhaps they'd worked in conjunction with one another. All she knew for sure was that, one minute, she was asleep, and the next, she was very awake and _very _hungry. And being crushed by her eleven-year-old.

"Hey kid," she grunted from under the lump of son on top of her covers. "Promised you I wouldn't suddenly die in the night, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I still thought I should come and make sure," he stated simply. Apparently, he wasn't giving any more than that.

"Who's cooking?" Emma asked, as she stretched out. Mentally, she took stock. A few aches and pains, and a slight throbbing in her head. Her wrists and ribs still felt pretty badly beaten up, but on the whole, it could have been worse. "And you really need to be right on top of me?"

"My other Mom's here," came Henry's answer to her question. "Grandma and Grandpa are investigating some vandalism or something so Mom's babysitting you...and yes."

Emma opened her mouth to object indignantly to both his phrasing and his blatant disregard for her whinging, but he cut her off by pointing to her bedside table.

"She told me to give you those," he told her, gesturing to the glass of water and a packet of aspirin that rested atop the cabinet. "My Mom, I mean. She said something about that Magic Fever thing, and then a word that I'm not supposed to repeat, and that she apologised for saying, and then she told me that she's gotten used to not having to watch her mouth."

Emma smirked in a good-natured sort of way as she imagined Regina so flustered.

"Could she possibly have said 'Magic Fever is an absolute bitch'?" she asked.

"You know, if I went downstairs and told her that you said that, she totally wouldn't put syrup on your pancakes," Henry told her, with a little frown creasing his brow.

"I don't know, kid," Emma retorted smugly. "I think you're underestimating how much sympathy the whole 'ass-kicking from a demon' thing can get a girl."

He finally shuffled off her belly then, but followed the action up by standing over her, wearing a smug little smirk that was so utterly and completely Regina Mills that it was a little chilling. Why did she always feel ten paces behind with this damned mother and son combo?

"I think _you're _underestimating my Mom," Henry informed her bluntly. She could have sworn that one of his eyebrows twitched in amusement.

And then he was off downstairs, yelling over his shoulder for her to hurry up.

Emma let her head flop back down on the pillow with an almighty sigh.

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It was one of those quirky little testaments to how much the relationship between Henry's two mothers had changed that, even as she was inhaling the heavenly aroma of her own potent black coffee, Emma wordlessly fetched cream and sweetener for a second mug. When she was done mixing, she placed the paler drink down on the worktop, next to where Regina was cooking.

"Thanks," the older woman grunted, barely glancing up from the pan.

"Welcome," came the tired little reply, as Emma allowed her limp curls to come entirely too close to both the cooking batter and the open flames from the gas hob.

She received a firm prod in the chest with a spatula by way of warning.

It was oddly fascinating to watch Regina work on breakfast. She had that air about her - that gleam of perfection and meticulousness - that people like Emma could only observe with awe. It was the sort of smooth, feline elegance that you're either born with or you aren't. And princess or no, Emma Swan would always possess precisely as much grace as a partially sedated duckling.

Eventually, the subject of her attentions slid her current pancake onto a plate and switched off the gas.

She passed the treat across to Henry, with a warning look that had clearly come to mean, over the years, '_don't use too much syrup, or I'll get you before the inevitable heart attack has a chance to'_. Then she watched like a hawk as he ladled out sensible amounts of topping - including a handful of chopped strawberries - before giving a satisfied little nod, and turning to her coffee as Henry traipsed off to sit in front of the TV.

She took a careful sip of the hot drink, staring wordlessly at Emma over the rim of her mug.

Emma shrugged, clueless.

"Come here then!" Regina ordered in mock exasperation. Emma scowled, but Regina simply smirked, placing her coffee innocently back on the worktop.

She pulled Emma none-too-gently towards her by the hem of her PJ top, before pushing her arms up so that they were raised directly above her head.

"How does that feel?" she asked, her eyes raking thoughtfully over Emma's form. All the mirth was gone from her now.

"It's pulling on my ribs," Emma admitted through slightly gritted teeth. "My natural urge is to hunch."

Regina nodded, as though expecting as much.

"Stretch your fingers," she instructed bluntly.

The other woman did, for just a moment, before wincing sharply, letting her arms fall back to her sides.

"Wrists?" asked Regina.

"Yep."

The former mayor gave her one last look over before nodding once again.

"I know it hurts," she said, sympathy colouring the edges of her words, "But the healing actually seems to have taken very nicely. You'll be fine in a day or two."

"What, you're a doctor now?"

Emma's tone was as bitter as the coffee she now sipped from moodily. Clearly, the woman was not a gracious patient.

"Miss Swan, I was a witch Queen constantly at war," Regina snapped, less than gently. "I've healed more knights than you could probably count with that towering intellect of yours."

Obviously deciding that they could either row or stop right now, Emma simply threw the other woman a scowl before focussing back on her drink.

It was something she'd been doing more and more lately. More than anyone, Emma could sympathise with Regina's constant inner conflict. To the point where, sometimes, she would look about in disbelief at the other residents of the town, and wonder just how it was that they were so oblivious. Did they not see how hard the woman was working against such stupidly impossible odds? Would they all really be so perfect if things had worked out differently, and _Regina _had been one of those with a precious happy ending that could be lost?

So, occasionally, Emma was willing to throw a fight. It was worth it to see how Regina had learned to relax around her more than anyone else in Storybrooke, barring Archie and Henry.

"I'm sorry for implying that you're stupid," Regina choked out eventually. She looked dead ahead as she said it, resolutely avoiding Emma's gaze.

That was something else that had been happening more and more often of late. Regina and Archie had spent a lot of time talking about the difference between remorse and weakness. She still hadn't learned to apologise to anyone but Henry, and, even more recently, Emma, but she was trying her best with those two at least.

It was made easier by the way that Emma was always a gracious recipient - never once rubbing her sentiments in her face.

"Thank you," Emma replied sincerely, as she did every single time. "I'm sorry for being an asshole. I'm actually...well, I'm really grateful for what you did for me. I kinda thought I was done for, if I'm honest."

"You're welcome." She still wasn't looking her in the eye, but her words were warm.

They were silent for a moment, before Regina looked over at the other side of the apartment to check that Henry was still engrossed by his cartoons. Finally, she met Emma's gaze again.

"So your father told you how we found you then? Myself and Miss Lucas?"

Emma nodded grimly, her tone falling to a low whisper, mimicking Regina's.

"Kinda sick, isn't it?" she murmured.

"Indeed." Regina was more than ready to agree with the unsophisticated sentiment, her stomach swirling a little as she cast her mind back to sight of Emma's head lolling so obliviously beneath the bloody taunt. "And you really don't remember anything?" she forced out after a moment.

"Nope," came the careless reply. "Not a thing. I remember being chucked about like a softball for a bit, trying to summon up enough magic to get rid of the demon, then I hit the mirror and there was a lot of white, followed by a lot of black."

"Hmmm." Regina narrowed her eyes, looking for all the world like a scheming monarch once more. Emma was glad to have her on side this time. "It's what happened after the 'lot of black' that's concerning."

"You're telling me. David looked like he had murder in mind when he told me. I don't think he's gonna rest until they found out who did it."

"Yes, he said that as soon as they're done at the courthouse, he and your mother are going to talk to Red and Gold again. They're going to open up an official investigation."

"Yeah..." Emma frowned. "What's the deal with that courthouse thing?"

Regina shrugged, clearly unconcerned by the irrelevant subject.

"Someone broke in last night apparently," she replied dismissively. "Trashed the place. Probably bored teenagers who have just realised that they're trapped in a town full of the dullest idiots in existence."

"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine today?" Emma couldn't help but sass.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Regina drawled back, "I forgot how my subjects used to regale me as the 'Cheery Queen'."

There was another comfortable little lull before Regina regarded Emma with a suddenly scrutinising eye.

"How do _you _feel about what happened?" she wondered aloud.

Emma shrugged uncomfortably.

"That's a very touchy-feely question for you," she grumbled evasively.

"Oh do shut up," Regina snapped. "Someone tied you up and mocked you in your own blood. What does that do to a person?"

Clearly, this was not a subject to be broached right now, and Emma met her sharp gaze with a steely look of her own. Her features were colder than they had been towards the other woman for months now.

"I know what you're digging around for, Regina," she stated firmly, "And this isn't going to affect my ability to look after Henry. I am fine. One hundred percent."

Regina regarded her for a moment more before nodding, her own expression suddenly utterly unreadable.

"Good," she replied eventually. "Then go take a bath or something. You stink."

000000000000

Emma spent the day in sweats, alternating between groaning over her aches and pains, and strangely enjoying spending time with what was gradually becoming her very own odd little family unit.

To her surprise, Regina didn't take over Henry's project-making. In fact, she was so adamant that he apply his own learning, that she was little more than a glorified holder-in-place-of-papier-mache-and-the-like, offering scant input beyond the odd nugget of constructive criticism. Emma couldn't help but find that there was something gleeful about watching Snow White's Evil Queen herself, cross-legged on an island of newspaper, painstakingly applying poster paint to the surface of Jupiter.

Around mid-afternoon, Regina fixed them a late lunch. She rolled her eyes at the contents of the cupboards - apparently so able to find fault with Snow White that even the other woman's grocery choices were worthy of her disgust. Eventually, she cobbled together a vegetable soup and threw Emma an infinite number of disbelieving looks for dribbling it onto the tabletop.

Charming called a little after they'd finished eating, when Regina was up to her elbows in washing-up suds. She threw a look over her shoulder and with a grumble, Emma pulled herself off the couch and shuffled pathetically across the apartment to answer the ringing phone.

Apparently, Snow and Charming's conversations with Red and Rumple had been depressingly fruitless, so they'd decided to start going door-to-door to see if anyone had seen or heard anything that might be of help. David warned that they probably wouldn't be home until later that evening, and asked if Regina would mind sticking around at the apartment for a few hours more. Emma relayed the request to the woman in question who nodded with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Emma could tell that it was just for show.

While Henry's work dried, they put a DVD on, Henry and Regina curled up on one couch, Emma stretched out on another. Regina had assured her that it was normal to still be feeling so weak and drowsy - her body still hadn't recovered from the amount of magic that she'd expelled the night before and was using today to let her know just how offended it was. Emma was asleep by the time the ending credits rolled up the screen, and Henry gave his mother an extra tight hug when she took in the sight of the rather pathetic blonde for a moment, before carefully draping a blanket over her resting form.

It was eight o'clock by the time the second call came in from Snow and Charming.

The sheriff's office was on fire.

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**Yup, a shower scene with Regina. Fan service? Moi?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, my eternal affection for the people who took the time to drop in with a review on the last chapter. Some of you were returning after already reviewing the first chapter. That made me feel squishy inside. :D**

**I have decided to dedicate this chapter to all the people who have silently followed and/or favourited my little story. You think I don't see you there? I see you! Stand up and take a bow. It's very, very appreciated. Thank you.**

**Also, to the guest reviewers that I can't reply to. I heart y'all.**

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** 000000000000**

Chapter Three

Regina was getting sick to death of smoke.

She stood with Snow and Charming on the concrete outside the sheriff's station. Each of them was numbly silent as they tried to look anywhere but at the words crudely spray-painted beneath their feet.

Eventually, Snow broke the quiet. Or not so much broke; her words were so small and shellshocked that they were almost lost in the vast vacuum of the last twenty-four hours.

"This really is all about Emma, isn't it?"

"Yes," Regina confirmed softly. Someone had to.

"It's personal, isn't it?"

"Yes." A sigh. "Yes, it would appear so."

There wasn't much else to say. They walked away. Regina first - hands in her pockets, head down. It was a walk that meant business. David next, in much the same manner, until only Snow was left, wrapped in tendrils of wet smoke and the squeal of sirens and the flashing of lights.

She looked down at the words again.

_STOP PRETENDING THAT YOU ARE ANYTHING BUT A PETTY THIEF AND A PATHETIC RUNAWAY._

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Surprisingly, Regina sat in the back seat of the cruiser on the way back to the apartment, instead of simply disappearing into a cloud of smoke ahead of them. As David regarded her in the rearview mirror, he couldn't help but cringe at how unnatural she looked back there. Even given her status as town pariah, it still felt like some sort of violation of all that was right and natural to see the former Evil Queen perched on a seat that had previously only been home petty thieves and lecherous drunks.

It reminded him of the discomfort that had gripped the whole castle during her imprisonment, in those long days before her non-execution. The kitchen staff drew from tightly clutched handfuls of straw to see who would have to deliver her meals; the guards murmured between themselves of siren songs and eyes that could turn a man's blood to fire if looked directly into. Even knowing that she was nothing but an evil, broken soul, David himself had occasionally woken in the middle of the night, drenched in his own cold perspiration and feeling like a child, playing a deadly game that he didn't understand with a grown up who would always be one step ahead.

Right now, for instance, he knew that Regina was utterly oblivious to her surroundings. She could have been in a dumpster for all the difference it would have made to her tightly set jaw and her drawn together brows. Because she was plotting.

So it didn't surprise him when, as they drew up outside their building, she looked directly into the reflection of his solemn eyes.

"When I get up there," she stated, calm and unwavering, "I am going to tell my son to pack up his things so that he can come home with me. Right now, he is not safe at your daughter's side."

"You're not all that popular either," he countered. But his words were tired and mechanical. He wasn't really interested in putting up a fight.

A sentiment that only deepened with Regina's next sentence.

"Yes, but you've seen what I do to people who cross me."

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Henry wore a thoughtful frown the entire journey home. His chin rested on top of the enormous rucksack that sat between his knees, and the stance made him look as though the weight of all the worlds was on his shoulders.

"You're worrying about your Mom," Regina stated. She had never patronised her son with pointless questions that she already knew the answer to. He'd been above that since the age of three.

"So are you," Henry challenged, though his voice was hollow. He didn't even take his chin off the bag.

"Why do you say that?"

A shrug.

"You've never called her my Mom before."

Regina took a moment for herself at that. Her fingers clenched around the steering wheel as she felt a wave of choking panic wrack through her. Desperately, she summoned up those things that she had been over and over with Archie.

_True redemption means letting things go on both sides._

_That's how she'll find peace with herself._

_It is not weakness._

_It is okay to trust._

_Well, it is okay to trust Emma._

_She can trust Henry and Emma._

_It is okay._

"Er...Mom?" Henry's voice sliced through her inner chants, concern tainting his youthful voice. "Are you okay?"

_Not yet, not quite yet, she's not okay just yet._

_It's okay to trust them. They can both be his mother._

"It's just that...why have we stopped in the middle of the road?"

_She'd stopped the car? When had she done that?_

_She could trust them, couldn't she?_

"Mom?" He sounded so worried.

It was that fact that brought her back to herself. It was time to step outside her head again. After all, she couldn't charge about claiming that she was the only one who could look after Henry if she was going to let herself give into moments of weakness like these. She willed her fingers to unfurl as she took one, two calming breaths.

And then she was ready.

Henry's face was troubled when she turned to look at him again.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, burying his nose even deeper into his rucksack in anticipation of her answer.

"Sweetheart, no!" she exclaimed. She prised now stiff fingers from the wheel so that she could reach over and ghost them through his hair. She could feel the tension in him, and oh, how she wished she could take it away. "Remember what we decided during that session with Archie? You can say anything to me, Henry. Anything."

"Yeah," he agreed hesitantly, "But I don't wanna say things that turn you all weird and statue-y when we're in a moving vehicle."

She took another breath.

"Okay, firstly, that was a textbook brake, young man. And these roads are absolutely deserted at this time of night." She flashed him a mock glare, ruffling his hair further, before withdrawing her hand so that it folded around the other in her lap. "And secondly...I just needed a moment, Henry." A breath. "You know that whole honesty thing?"

"Yeah."

"Well, honestly, I still...it's still...difficult for me to think about Emma as your Mom. She already has a biological link to you that I'll never have. Well," she added with a disdainful scoff, "Her and just about everyone else in this godforsaken town, as it transpires. But anyway, it's always going to be hard for a Mom like me when a birth mother suddenly comes into the picture. And when the birth mother is literally the White Knight of the fairytales, and the adoptive Mom is _the_ _original _Evil Stepmother...sometimes, I feel like me fighting against her being your Mom is the only thing between having you and losing you completely."

Her voice was shaking a little by the time she finished; dreading what her son was going to say in reply; terrified of just how much power he could wield over her with his words.

To her eternal pride, Henry absorbed her words with his typical thoughtfulness. His brow furrowed like he was working on a particularly taxing math problem and he chewed on his bottom lip. _Pure Emma_, something in her noted with a little amusement.

Finally, he nodded.

"Okay," he said slowly. "A couple of things. While we're doing the whole therapy honest thing."

"Anything." She echoed her sentiment from earlier, making good on it with a reassuring smile.

"One..." He had actually composed a little list in his head, she realised. It was sort of adorable. "...It's actually...in a weird sort of way...sort of awesome that you're the original Evil Stepmom. I mean, between everyone loving Grandma and Grandpa and Emma, and everyone being scared of you...everyone's _really _nice to me at school. I mean, _really_ nice. The lunch-lady even gives me more dessert than everyone else. And I take a packed lunch!"

"She used to steal from the people in her village. I turned her into a squirrel for a week as punishment."

"MOM!"

"Total honesty!" she cried out, holding her palms out defensively.

But she could tell that he was trying not to laugh.

"Two," Henry continued firmly. And if his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly, she wasn't going to be the one to point it out. "Two - me and Archie kind of talk about you and Emma a _lot_. Like, at first, I felt like I had to pick between you, but then he helped me realise that doing that just sucked. It made me feel horrible. Like that time Emma tried to make lasagna. So then I decided that I wanted both of you. And both of you want me, so it actually works out really well."

Regina laughed a little as she marveled at his eleven-year-old logic.

"Honey, how did you work all that out faster than we did?"

"Grown-ups are dumb," was the simple reply. As though it was obvious. And maybe it was.

"Was there a number three?" It was yet another thing that Archie had helped her to realise - she had to give Henry the space to say everything he needed to say before she waded in. Really, she wondered if curses should just come as standard in medical training; Hopper had to be one of the most capable therapists in existence and he used to make noise by rubbing his wings together.

"Actually, yeah. While we're being completely honest, what's going on with Emma?"

It hit her harder than it should have. She'd known that the question was coming; she'd only hoped that she would have had longer - and perhaps not been parked in the middle of the road with her hazard lights flashing. Still, she was committed now.

"Okay," she sighed deeply. "This is one of those other situations we talked about in the session. I am going to tell you the truth, but I am going to miss things out. Things that are inappropriate. Do you trust me, or would you rather wait to talk to Emma?"

He hesitated for so long that she started to believe he might go for the latter option. Until finally, he gave her a slow, wordless nod. She took it as her cue to continue.

"You know the thing with the Smoke Demon?" She didn't wait for an answer. Yet again, she would not patronise him. "Well, that was an accident. It really was. Just one of those strange things that happen because Storybrooke isn't like other towns. But when Ruby and I got there...it would seem that someone else had been there."

"How do you know?"

"Emma was tied to a radiator. And the person had...left a message."

"What sort of message?"

"A message that said that Emma is not the savior that everyone sees her as."

"Oh."

She thanked all those deities she'd never believed in that he didn't ask anything else. Had he interrogated her further, she had no idea how she would have sidestepped the fact that the message had come in the form of words scrawled in his mother's blood. The same blood that ran through his veins.

The realisation came out of nowhere, and it prompted a wave of murderous rage in Regina that she hadn't felt since her days on the throne. Suddenly she knew beyond doubt.

She was going to find this bastard. And she was going to make him sorry that he was ever born.

She chose not to question the knowledge.

Meanwhile, Henry was fiddling with the zips on his rucksack, looking out at the dark road before them through narrowed eyes. She could see his jaw tightening, and couldn't help but reflect that, while he may have so many of Emma's mannerisms, he was a mirror image of herself when his protective instincts reared up. It was a beautiful thought.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Did the same person start the fire at the station?" he shot back, ignoring her question.

"It would appear so," she admitted.

"Why? How do you know? Did they leave another message?"

"Yes."

"What did this one say?"

Another 'thank you' to whoever might be listening. The dwarves were cleaning up the words at this very moment. Henry would never have to see them.

"Something to the same effect," she told him.

"You're not going to tell me exactly what?" She could see a spark of the old days in him then - the same resentment and mistrust. She knew she could only meet it with total honesty. She had to play the long game.

"No."

"Why?"

A long, long silence, which she hoped he saw for what it was - she was trying to work out, not how best to lie to him, but, in fact, how best to tell him the truth. Eventually, she decided that there was no dressing it up.

"Because she's your mother, Henry. And no son needs to hear that sort of thing."

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_To: Ms. Blanchard_

_I've explained things to Henry. _– _R_

Knowing that no further explanation was needed, she placed her cellphone back on the bedside table, flicking off the lamp. In a strange sort of way, Regina found herself sympathising with her nemesis as she imagined her having the same conversation with her own daughter. Emma had been so completely out of it by the time they'd got back to the apartment that Charming had taken one look at his daughter and scooped her into his arms, lifting her up the stairs with a firm, authoritative, "_We'll tell her tomorrow. Now, she sleeps."_

No one had argued.

Regina sunk deeper into the bedsheets. The house felt so beautifully _right_ with her son back in his own bed. She almost thought that she could hear his rhythmic breaths from here.

But still, she found herself wishing that it could have been under better circumstances.

She switched the lamp back on, and reached into the drawer beside her. Skimming over several other objects that she had decided to purchase for her...peace of mind...she felt her fingers connect with the soft leather journal she kept there.

The whole 'recovery' thing was so exhausting and contradictory sometimes, that she occasionally wondered if her head would explode. So she'd bought the journal. It was a place that she could say things that she could say to no one else - not even her well-meaning therapist. Mad things and bad things and dark things and, from time to time, things that were simply surprising.

Placing her reading glasses on her nose, she flicked through the pages, odd entries jumping out at her.

_–_

_I still dream about crushing Snow White's heart sometimes. I don't enjoy the dreams, but I don't want to tell Archie. If he manages to make them stop, will I become weak? Maybe I need these dreams so that I never forget. I can't let her take anything from me again. I cannot allow Henry to meet a fate like Daniel's._

–

_A man spat on the ground as I walked past. I didn't even remember him. He was a complete stranger. For a moment, I imagined showing him who I was as a girl, but a second later, I felt sick. These 'people' do not deserve the memory of that girl. It felt like a violation even having him in the vicinity while I imagined it. She is so delicate - like flower petals. The Evil Queen protects her. I cannot hate the Queen._

–

_I wish Graham had never met me._

–

_Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock._

_The house is so quiet._

_Tick tock._

–

_The Evil Queen would have been addicted to Emma Swan. She would have enjoyed breaking her and rebuilding her until she was as hard as stone. Then, she could have been leant upon. The Queen would have recreated Emma Swan in her own image, but she would have done it so very thoroughly that it would have been genuine. She would have been Emma Swan with a heart of pure ice. Somehow, she would have been both. _

_Now I cannot stop crying._

_She would have been destroyed._

–

Her cellphone chose that moment to vibrate heavily against the wooden surface of the bedside table, making her jump. She placed the book down onto her lap and reached over.

_From: Ms. Blanchard_

_Thank you, Regina. I'll have Emma talk it over with him_

_again tomorrow. Once I've talked it through with her, I_

_suppose. I'll let you both know when she's awake._

She reread the short text three times, making sure that it had trickled into every crevice of her before picking up her pen, and adding a single sentence to the journal.

_–_

_Other people's losses are no longer my victories._

_–_

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Emma's head was spinning like a carousel.

She didn't know how finding out she had some sort of demented stalker was somehow harder to understand than the bombshell that her parents were fairytale characters, but it was. It was the idea of someone having that little respect for her, she supposed. And not in the Mayor Mills way - back when Regina had looked at her as though she was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe, and her life.

No. This was someone who wanted to hit her where it hurt, just...because. Where it really, really hurt. They were mocking her honest job, and her newly-discovered birthrights, and her responsibilities, and her precious fresh start and all the other things that she'd found in Storybrooke and come to feel so proud of.

They'd seen through it all.

She ignored her mother's gentle suggestion that she should come down and eat some breakfast and chose instead to pull the covers over her still tender body, reaching blindly for wherever her cell had fallen during the night.

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_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Thank you for taking Henry. You're right. He _

_shouldn't be around me right now._

_To: Miss Swan_

_Of course I'm right. Let's not act as though_

_that is a new development._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Are you being an asshole to try and make_

_me smile?_

_To: Miss Swan_

_Well, I am the Cheery Queen. Remember?_

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_I bet you are this morning. How is he?_

_To: Miss Swan_

_As chaotic and wonderful as I remembered. And_

_worried about you._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Snow said you told him what was going on._

_To: Miss Swan_

_I gave him a child-appropriate version of events,_

_yes. But who knows how much he's managed_

_to string together by himself? And you know_

_what he's like for eavesdropping._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_I don't want him to find out. But I suppose_

_it was only a matter until my crappy past screwed_

_things up._

_To: Miss Swan_

_Miss Swan, if you are going to become maudlin,  
I will terminate this conversation without a second_

_thought. You know as well as I do that our son wouldn't_

_care if it transpired that you'd stolen the Declaration of_

_Independence. I'm keeping the details from him because_

_he doesn't need to know that someone is treating_

_you in such a way._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Did you just call him 'our son'?_

_To: Miss Swan_

_It's something I'm trying out apparently. Call_

_attention to it again and I will destroy your_

_happiness. Of that you can be sure._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Fair enough, your majesty. Snow says I should _

_start drawing up a list of people from my past who_

_could be doing this. But no one can get here, can_

_they?_

_To: Miss Swan_

_Let us worry about that. You just make the list. It_

_will be helpful._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Has anyone actually managed to have a proper_

_look at Gold's shop? It's the original crime scene_

_after all._

_To: Miss Swan_

_He has said that I can take a look around_

_when he's finished taking stock of the damage._

_There's a lot of dangerous magic in that shop_

_and he doesn't trust anyone else not to_

_accidentally curse themselves whilst_

_looking around._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Yeah, but that still gives him time to..._

_I don't even know. I don't like the way he_

_suddenly acts like we should trust him_

_because it turns out he's Neal's dad._

_To: Miss Swan_

_I'm only going to say this once, but do we _

_definitely trust Neal? He would fit the profile _

_for something like this. It's all very personal._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_And me and him have been up close and_

_plenty personal? No, I get that it kind of makes_

_sense but Neal just isn't that guy. He's like me._

_If something was bothering him, he'd just_

_run. He doesn't get caught up in shit like this._

_To: Miss Swan_

_I trust your judgment. To be quite honest, I _

_agree. As beautifully convenient as it would be_

_if he turned out to be an even bigger psychopath_

_than myself, he really doesn't seem the type._

_Besides, I still think the handwriting looked _

_feminine._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Stop calling yourself a psychopath. And_

_Snow agrees with you on that one. And she_

_spent 28 years looking at a whole classroom's_

_handwriting._

_To: Miss Swan_

_It's just a gut feeling. Anyway, Henry's getting_

_fidgety. I suppose I'm going to have to come up_

_with ways to take his mind off things._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Yeah. I guess I'd better start on that list. Eugh._

_To: Miss Swan_

_I'll bring him over for dinner later, Emma. Just_

_spend a few hours doing this and you can rest again._

_To: Mayor Pain in the Ass_

_Thank you. x_

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**Thanks for reading.**


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